


Who knew Happy had a soft spot for the kid?

by ChocolateAndRedbull



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Happy Hogan is a Good Bro, Happy has a soft spot for the kid, Hurt Peter, Hurt Peter Parker, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Tony Stark, Sick Character, Sick Peter, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, concussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:08:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24288679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateAndRedbull/pseuds/ChocolateAndRedbull
Summary: When Peter’s too sick to go to school, but Tony has meetings he can’t miss, he calls the next best thing.OrHappy Hogan might just have a soft spot for the kid
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Happy Hogan & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 300





	1. Chapter 1

Tony Stark knocked loudly on his intern’s door, knowing that it could take a hurricane to wake the sleeping teenager some mornings. He quickly pushed the door open. 

"Come on, kid, get your butt to school."

He frowned when there was a quiet murmur from the bed, knowing that Peter had a tendency to grunt loudly or even just yell at being woken up.

"Kid?" Tony asked, "Come on, buddy, it's time for school."

There was a small hum from the bundle on the bed, followed by an incoherent mumble.

"What was that?" he asked, checking his watch.

"I'm coming," came a hoarse voice, "Just getting up now..." Peter murmured, rolling over.

"You alright, kid?" Tony questioned, crossing the room to the kid’s bed. "You're looking a bit pale..." Tony placed a hand on the teenager's forehead before sighing. "You're burning up... maybe you should stay home today."

"No, I'm fine," Peter mumbled, yet to open his eyes. "Gotta go to school... gotta - gotta meet... Spiderm’n..."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Okay, you're definitely staying here."

Peter pushed himself to sit up, blinking in the low light of the room. "No, Mr Stark," he slurred, "I gotta go to school, I'll be oka-"

He froze.

"Peter?" Tony asked, cautiously.

Peter looked up at his mentor with an apologetic look before gagging harshly and retching into his own open hands.

Tony patiently waited until he was finished before quickly pulling the duvet and sheets from the bed, waiting for Peter to hand him the soiled pyjama pants from where the vomit had dripped through. He quickly shoved them into the hamper before Peter could see them. He turned to see the kid shivering on the bed in just his underwear, vomit dripping down his chest and couldn't help but have a flashback to their first real mission together, when Peter had gotten a knock to the head and was immediately sick down the front of his suit. Tony hadn't known how to handle it then but thank god he'd learned a thing or two in the last few months since Peter had started spending the weekend here.

"Come on, buddy, let's get you into some fresh pyjamas," Peter looked up from his lap and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "But you gotta go to that meeting," Peter said, shivering helplessly before releasing a quiet, sickly belch into his fist. Tony wiped the vomit from his chest with a towel and handed him a t-shirt and a new set of pyjama pants.

"I know, but not before I get you cleaned up and back to bed," he said, wiping the kid’s face and hands clean with the towel.  
"Go and jump into my bed, I'll get you some water and a bucket in case you feel sick again," Tony said, as he watched the kid brush his teeth.

When he returned, he found Peter curled up in the middle of the bed, hugging the pillow close to him. He placed the bucket on the floor beside the shaking teenager. "That's there if you need it, buddy, and don't forget to drink your water. I'll be back on my break."

Peter just buried himself even deeper into the large bed.

________________________________

"Peter?" Tony called as he opened the penthouse door. "You awake?"

There was a thud from Tony’s room and a low moan. Tony quickly made his way up the stairs and threw open the door to find Peter and the duvet in a pile on the floor. 

"Hey, kid, what're you doing down there?" he asked, crouching beside him and feeling his forehead, wincing at the heat.

"Had to puke..." Peter panted, "...fell out when I leaned over," the teenager coughed.

"Why didn't you just pick up the bucket?" Tony quizzed.

"I tried... too heavy..."

Tony frowned and peered into the small bucket to find a rather substantial amount of vomit in it. "Jesus, kid..."

Peter peered solemnly up at his mentor, face covered in sweat before swallowing harshly.

"Come on," Tony said, holding out his hand to the kid. "This room stinks of puke, we'll put you on the couch and you can watch TV."

Peter didn't respond, instead allowing himself to be led downstairs and flopping onto the couch, curling in on himself as Tony draped the duvet over him.

"You want anything to eat?" Tony asked, chuckling when a loud groan was emitted from the lump on the sofa.

Tony placed the bucket beside the couch, now smelling of disinfectant rather than vomit and replaced the glass of water with a fresh one.

"I gotta get back to this meeting, but call me if you need me and I'll get someone else to cover for me."

Peter just hummed before rolling over and burying himself into the back of the couch.

———

"Kid? Kid, you awake? Come on, kid, wake up."

Peter moaned softly before peering out of the small gap in the duvet. "Happy?"  
"Hey, how're feeling?" Happy asked, somewhat gently.

"Can't talk. Dead." Peter groaned, before rolling over to face the back of the couch.

"Come on, kid, boss texted me and asked me to make you some soup and keep you company. So put in a movie while I attempt to not burn down the kitchen,” Happy said, tugging at the duvet.

Peter moaned but turned over to face the TV, unsure of what he was watching anymore.

"Fine, but we're watching Star Wars because it's already in the DVD player and I'm not getting up to change it."

"That's fine with me," Happy said with a chuckle.

———

After four hours of movie-watching, eating, puking, a change of clothes and more eating, Peter was back where he had started in his own bed, which Happy had remade when Peter’s back began to hurt from the lumpy couch.

Happy sat at Peter’s desk, poking at his tablet while the kid snored softly from across the room.

Happy sat up and stretched as he heard Tony open the door to the penthouse and went to meet him.

"Hey, how's he holding up?" Tony asked, shedding his jacket.

"He's doing alright, I think," Happy nodded, "he's sleeping now, but he stayed awake for a movie and a half and we got half a bowl of soup into him before he threw up, but he's kept the other half down so far so I think that's a good sign."

Tony nodded, "Thanks, Hap, I really appreciate it. Are you gonna head home? Or are you gonna stay?"

"I think I'll stay with him for a while, at least until his fever breaks," Happy said, turning towards the bedroom. "Oh, and I remade your bed by the way, the kid kinda sweated through your sheets."

Tony looked strangely at the man he thought he knew so well. Who knew he had a soft spot for the kid?


	2. Their first real mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Peter stays home sick Tony thinks back to the first time he’d had to care for the sick boy

Why had he brought the kid?

It was supposed to be a quick mission. In, get the plans, knock out a few goons maybe, then get out of there.

Quick, harmless, a training exercise more than anything.

Only there were a couple more goons than was previously anticipated.

Whoever was in charge of intel was getting fired.

“Mr Stark?” came the quiet whisper through the comms. “What’s the plan?”

Tony scanned the room for the plans they needed. Although to be honest, trying to see anything over the sea of heads was damn near impossible.

He watched the crowd carefully before spotting the doctor he recognized. 

Bingo.

“What it always is, kid, keep your distance, web ‘em up. On my count, alright?” 

Peter hummed a nervous affirmation.

“Just like we practiced, buddy.”

“S-Sure, Mr Stark,” the teen hummed.

“On the count of three, okay? One, two... three!”

Before Tony could even think there were goons webbed to each wall, some more hung from the ceiling, a good dozen of them squirming together in a pile in the center of the room. 

But Tony couldn’t focus on that. He needed to get these plans before Hydra did. With a few blasts of his repulsors, Tony knocked out anyone who came into his path, while Spider-Man worked from the rafters.   
“You good, kid?” he asked as he landed in front of the small, quivering doctor in a white lab coat. 

“Uh-huh!” came the strained reply as the kid shot another web that glued three scientists to a table. 

Tony made quick work of incapacitating the scientist and downloading the files he needed. When the computer chimed to indicate it was finished Tony turned to see Peter not in the rafters but in a stand off with two goons, one holding a crowbar, who were slowly closing in on him.

“Shit,” he muttered, letting the suit close back around him. “Kid?”

“Sorry, Mr Stark,” the kid said, voice solid but Tony could still see the nervousness in his stance.

Normally Tony would blast them into oblivion, but Natasha and Rhodey’s words rang through his head. 

“No deaths, Tony, he’s a kid, he doesn’t need to see that.”

So Tony watched the goon closest to him, seemingly unaware that Tony was behind him and with one swift punch, was out cold. 

But before the man had hit the floor, the guy with the crowbar swung and connected right with the kid’s temple.

The kid hit the ground with a low thump and Tony’s instincts took over and blasted the man in the chest, sending him flying across the room as Tony fell to his knees beside the boy.

“Kid? Kid, come on, talk to me,” Tony breathed, the suit unfolding to give him better access to the teen. Peter was pushing himself up to a sitting position, sluggishly pulling at his mask.

Tony placed a hand on the kid’s shoulder, gently pushing him back down. “Stay down, Pete, I’ll call a MedEvac. You’re gonna be alright, you hear me?”

Peter struggled against Tony’s grip and pushed himself up onto his elbow, weakly grasping at his mask. He barely got it over his nose before he hiccuped a mouthful of vomit onto his own chest. 

“Shit. Kid, that’s enough of that now. Try and relax alright?” Tony said desperately. “Friday? What’s the estimate on that evac?”

“Eight minutes out, boss.”

“Okay, okay, eight minutes. You hear that kid? Help is coming in eight minutes.” 

Peter’s only response was to lean over and retch again.

Tony’s heart was racing. What was he supposed to do with a concussed, pukey kid?

Peter dropped his head into his own shoulder with a groan, and if Tony hadn’t put a hand up to steady him he would have tipped forward and thunked his head against the concrete.

“Alright, buddy, maybe we’ll try lying down, huh?” Tony said, desperately. But he stopped himself. 

Tony knew that lying on his left side would be better for his nausea, and thus was less likely to choke, however that goose egg forming on his temple made him decide against it.

On his back? The kid’s reflexes were non existent at this point, he would definitely choke.

So Tony maneuvered the kid to lay on his right side, desperately shushing him when he groaned and coughed up more stringy vomit.

He held the kid in place as he mumbled incoherently, cursing when he realized he slowly had to put more effort into holding the kid’s face off the concrete.

“Stay awake for me, buddy, don’t go to sleep,” Tony coaxed desperately.

Peter just grunted before letting more vomit fall from his mouth.

Tony shushed him, rubbing his head comfortingly as the kid tried to speak.

“What’s that, buddy?” he asked, leaning closer to him.

“‘S ‘pinnin’...” he whimpered. “Make... s’op, stop...”

“Alright, kiddo, try and relax. Help is on its way...” Tony hummed sympathetically. Peter whined and Tony could feel him tilt forward as his head swam. 

It seemed like forever passed before the rumble of the Quinjet outside sounded and five medics burst through the door, followed by Natasha, graceful as ever.

Tony watched as the medics strapped Peter onto a stretcher and his heart broke when the kid held out his hand desperately. Tony grabbed the shaky hand with his own and followed them to the Quinjet.

As they passed Natasha, he couldn’t help but spit, “Intel is gonna be fired.”

He could have sworn he heard her say “Already done.”


End file.
